


Vindictive Intentions

by facelesstheorem (facelessnim)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Mystery, Psychological
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-08 15:31:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facelessnim/pseuds/facelesstheorem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four unfortunate souls, different yet similar, far yet too close and has the ability to contribute into society but will their intentions stay the same from the start ? Humans are born with fickle minds after all.</p><p> </p><p>Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot per se.<br/>Author's notes: My first straight-as-a-rainbow story and warnings for how lame it's written and queue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

 

 

LAPTOP PERFECTLY SITTING on the table counter of the kitchen, Kris occasionally scratches his head with the tip of his pen. The news flashed through his screen gives a great punch of dizziness if it weren’t for the fact that Kris tries connecting the puzzles to form a coherent answer but no. It needs a waste of time brainstorming every possibility that is there to think of. Kris almost felt how his brain cells bleed from this stupid report Luhan, his partner, had given him.

 

The tabloids, pictures, and other sources of information about the good dead man Mister—his name isn’t that important for Kris to mourn for—Lee are all scattered beside his Mac book. Kris sometimes thought of just guessing the reason why this Mr. Lee was dead according to the possible explanations of the way it looked. But Kris wouldn’t want to do that. No, he will not. Why? Is it because he’s a good netizen to the society? Yes or maybe not.

 

Sure Kris wants to help and give the best he can do but does the society appreciates that? Living in reality, no one gives you attention shit if you aren’t famous or if you aren’t the hero who wants to be dead at the end of the movie. Kris knows how injustice this world could take. How most people just get what they selfishly need and partially give. How often Kris wants to shout at whoever started this. Why did he take BS Criminology from the first place? To save the world? Not so. That remains to Kris himself.

 

Kris arrived here in Seoul for another case, a serious case Luhan spat on him. What’s the difference? It’s always a serious case, Kris would scoff. He gets tired being teamed up with this Luhan guy who won’t stop acting genius and know-it-all attitude. They both met in Canada during their first day in the police department. Luhan is the guy who befriends everyone but not totally. He just acts like that to gain trust and in some instance, gets his position higher than the rest.

 

Although like that, Kris knows him too well. He knows that Luhan’s real intention is to help the victims of the cruel crimes. No other vicious plans, none. Comparing Luhan to Kris, Luhan is born to be weighing in the good side. As for Kris, he’s clearly experiencing some internal debate. No one can blame Kris. After all, he had been one of the targets the bullies enjoyed showering with torments during his college years. Kris tasted the real meaning of tough life way back and he doesn’t want to even lick that life again. _Never_.

 

“Ugh. God bless his soul, I can’t even come up with a weird conclusion.” Kris groaned, bangs his forehead against the screen and closes his eyes. Unlike Luhan, Kris prefers coming with a result that is likely impossible. He worships like that. It’s amusing and unbelievable at first sight but when it comes to explicit explanations, people will be astonished to find the truth slightly unpredictable. There are 3 to 5 possible legit reasons to Mr. Lee’s death but Kris rolled his eyes to those. He wants more…fascinating and not boring like this information given to him. What can he do? It’s not like he’s a detective for FBI’s sake.

 

A sudden vibration then a familiar ringtone comes next in his left side, making Kris reached for it and answers the call. He stretches and yawns while bringing the device to his left ear, head pulled back to exhale loudly. As expected, even not glancing at the caller, Kris swears he could hear what the person on the other side of the phone is about to ask.

 

“Did you find anything? Anything related to his death and the suspect? Because I had given that report to you three days ago! Why are you so slow? How did you even graduate? Huh Kris?” Luhan bombarded with shits of questions.

 

“Jesus Luhan, you know how I work. I’m still figuring out how—”

 

“The legitimate reasons are even provided to you, Kris! Why are you _always_ searching for the impossible? We are living in reality and not some fictionish case! Why am I repeating this again? When will you embrace the truth?”

 

“Ok…then I fucking pick the possible reason number 2: Mr. Lee was killed because he was having an affair to a mafia’s wife. Happy?”

 

Luhan growls then heaves a deep sigh at Kris’ immature retort. Why did Luhan trust this case to Kris if he’ll be having this hard time knocking his partner back into the world? Kris can see it, the Luhan rubbing his own temples and a forced relaxation to calm both of them. He waits and waits, doesn’t end the call just waits for Luhan to calm his nerves.

 

“Fine.” There it goes, Kris almost smiles at this.

 

Luhan repeated, “Fine, Kris. But I’m warning you, if you come up with a stupid made-up presumption, I’m handling this case myself. Got that?”

 

“As if.” Kris murmured but was ignored by Luhan. Suddenly enhanced at this own capability, Kris let his phone squeezed between his left shoulder and ear. He spreads the information 2 inches apart and typed something through the keyboard, smiling when he’s satisfied with the results. Kris glances back to the papers and writes something on it.

 

“Hey! Did you hear me?”

 

Of course, Luhan’s still there. Kris nods but then realizes how stupid that is. He clears his throat, “Yeah yeah sure.” Circles there, connecting points here then forming crossed stars among the separated papers, Kris frowns when something makes small sense to the picture.

 

“Oh I almost forgot to tell you…I went to the office awhile ago and saw many initiates. It’s so nice to see them working hard. I thought I saw how we started back then. But that’s not what I’m about to share. Hey, you there?”

 

“Mmm.”

 

“Good cause one of them is assigned under your name.”

 

Kris halted. Did he hear it right? He is going to babysit some newbie? What? Kris puts the pen down, grabbing the phone and places it to his right ear, eager to listen now. He doesn’t like to be interrupted but that information caught him off-guard. Damn, why is this happening to him? Kris hiss, “What the hell, Luhan? Under my name? Why?! I don’t have time nursing some kiddo.”

 

“Don’t blame me on it. Just pass by the main bulletin board and saw it. Looks like you’ll be dividing your time huh.”

 

“How about you?” Kris inquired quickly, frown deepening.

 

“Empty handed.” Replied Luhan, a little bit too proud for Kris’ likings.

 

Kris grunts and flops himself on his chair, “For real?”

 

“Yes, big head. For real and don’t even start asking me why. We all know I work 24/7 every month contrasting to you.”

 

Before Kris gets the chance to whine and share his load of feelings at the moment, there’s a knock to his apartment door. He glances to the direction of where the sound came from and raises one of his eyebrows. Kris doesn’t remember expecting any visitors this afternoon. Maybe it’s a mailman or a random neighbor. He shakes his head.

 

“Luhan, did you—”

 

“Oh. The package is there! Have fun!” Just like that and Luhan ended the call. Kris pulls his phone away from his ear, staring at it disbelievingly before throwing it to the couch in the living room. He trudges towards the annoying knocks and opens the door wide with visible rage. What he saw was a boy with a box of head—literally. Kris unintentionally steps back in surprise.

 

The box moves to the side, revealing a real face this time. _Thank God_ , Kris mentally thanks he isn’t one of those who possess heart failure. If not, he will be a victim to the lamest cause of death in no time and Kris isn’t planning on getting his autopsy with a result of that thing. Hell no. At least die with an eccentric death bastard, Kris thinks.

 

“Hi! Are you Mr. Kris Wu?” The boy asks, successfully pulling Kris out of his reverie. Eyeing the said boy from his redish purple hair, his carrying box, well designed red and black checkered pants to his maroon snickers, Kris resists the urge to let his lips twist in a grimacing manner at the choice of outfit. How unprofessional for a delivery man to wear this instead of their own uniform.

 

Nonetheless, Kris nods. The boy smiles, too bright to shield from it actually and Kris isn’t even fond of it one bit. He merely meets people with this kind of aura and being in a police department for so long didn’t even help. So no, Kris isn’t being friendly at all. Awkward for Kris to just stand there and wait for this unknown boy to hand the box over but as Kris offers his arms for the latter, the smile from the boy’s face disappears and he seems lost.

 

“Eh? Is that your way of welcoming me? Through embracing? Oh wait, lemme put down my box first.”

 

 _My box_. Kris is definitely stunned at this. His box? What did he mean by that? And then it clicked. Kris will do everything to murder Luhan without being track down and hunt over. Of course, this is Luhan’s way. Package means Newbie and Have Fun means Happy Hell Day. And this is Kris’ way of slowly picking up clues of Luhan’s indirect way of saying what was about to happen. Great, just great.

 

The boy puts his box down, bows first and nearly jumps into Kris’ arms not until Kris held the boy abruptly on both shoulders and shakes his head. Stern look given directly to the boy and Kris felt how those shoulders shiver. This is Kris and he can’t just let anyone do whatever they wish to him. First day with the newbie yet it almost went into disaster. Is this boy that stupid or what?

 

“Yes, I am Kris Wu. And it will be very convenient if you keep some personal space for us. I didn’t mean the hug anyways. It’s…nevermind. Just…ugh…get in.” Kris pulls his hands back and turns to leave. He knows that the boy will follow after his initial shock of the welcoming attitude. Not that Kris cares, he knows people wouldn’t last long on his side except those who are just related to work. And remind him to tell that this initiate is related to his work.

 

“Sorry. Luhan-ssi just told me that you are expecting me to be here sooner that’s why I kind of like—”

 

“Well, I suggest not believing everything his mouth says.”

 

The boy hesitated, “Ok…ay.” before closing the door behind him. He drags the box to the center of the living room and looks around, amazement visible in his eyes. It soon returns to where Kris took a quick left turn and he follows suit. The kitchen isn’t that bad, not dirty, clean enough and suitable for more than one person to use. Pricks of sunlight illuminating the whole room and it give a peaceful sensation to the young lad.

 

“Uhm, My name is Byun Baekhyun. I am an initiate and I will work hard under your supervision. Nice to meet you personally, Kris Wu-ssi.” Baekhyun formally introduces himself, didn’t even forget how to bow to his senior before standing straight. Kris is back to his former self-investigation report after leaving the younger on his doorway awhile ago yet he didn’t expect this kind of approach.

 

He even doubted this Baekhyun guy to just turn away and request an official letter stating _‘I am truthfully sorry. I can’t be under this dumpshit Kris Wu. Thank you for consideration. Your’s truly, Byun Baekhoon.’_ Kris is more than relief if that happens. He just can’t do things according to his own without considering this new initiate of his from now on. His inward self groans for the umpteenth time.

 

“Alright Alright, just fix your things and go away.” Kris motions with his left hand while the other is busy resuming the patterns that he writes on the papers. He couldn’t crash the boy’s dream by telling him to move out and never come again just like that. At least not now. Kris decided that if this initiate annoys the hell out of him then off he goes. Baekhyun smiles and grips the strap of his backpack before bowing again, “Thank you! I will settle now. If you command something, I’m here at your service.” Kris clicks his tongue.

 

Baekhyun takes that as a sign of fleeing away from the kitchen and drags the box to the one and only bedroom. He is so happy that after graduating, he is finally assigned to one of the best police department here in Seoul. A dream came true and Baekhyun is more than happy achieving one. He roams around the room. Although one bed, Baekhyun can sleep on the floor. It doesn’t bother him as long as his senior has the decency to lead him to the right path of every aspiring cop. His past isn’t very sweet and he wants to do everything to replace that with his present. _Your past doesn’t define you_ , Baekhyun says. A bitter memory has to fade and be forgotten and be _dead_.

 

Now, all Baekhyun have to do is follow Kris’ steps and observe and learn from him. Every action is important and he is very enthusiastic in reaching his senior’s level of professionalism, cut the personality though. Baekhyun drops his box and pulls his bag away from his back. He settles on the floor first before taking cautious of not disturbing Kris’ properties, slowly unpacking with a contented smile on his face.

 

“Ok! Let’s do this.”

 

 

 

 

卍 卍 卍

“It’s a suicide.” A man with blonde hair says after pulling out the medical gloves to let his hands breathe natural air. He deposits it next to the tray a woman was holding and walks out of the crime scene, followed by an Inspector representative of the police department. As he said that, he notices how the Inspector contorts his face, clearly visible that he still comprehending why.

 

“She made it up like she was murdered by this certain friend she had planned to get arrested because of jealously and revenge. It’s easy to detect though, because she failed to throw this diary of hers before killing herself. Wait for the Forensic group about the results and you won’t be disappointed.” He explains immediately and the Inspector nods in agreement this time, making the blonde smirk at the slowness of this representative.

 

“I see. So this is just another minor case for you, soon to be detective Lay.” The Inspector says.

 

“It’s still a case, Inspector Huang. I’m glad the Chinese government let me through so many cases without questioning any requirements of my profession. With your help too, I’m thankful.” Lay says and observes how Inspector Huang writes on his pocket-sized booklet the information he’d got. He looks back to the crime scene but crinkled his nose in distaste. Why such people would kill themselves and framed up someone just to get revenge? Such a low reason they got there and Lay is beginning to hate the suicidal people even more.

 

For Lay, suicide is never an answer to this world’s problem. Maybe to some but to him? People got endless excuses and he isn’t even surprise from it. Life is like that so does the people involving around it. Here in China, Lay is far more famous but he doesn’t care. Fame is one selfish thing and Lay didn’t even think that he’s that famous. He often thinks that people need him that’s why he’s doing the right job not for the money either but just for the sake of helping.

 

Lay is fond of mysteries since young. He remembers how his father would buy mystery books and read it to him. He remembers how his mother would scold him for staying up all night just to read tons of classic mysteries and he still remembers how his parents passed away due to some incurable disease that spread amongst their hometown, effects of his not-so-healthy looking figure and pale face.

 

Some miracle happens that day, Lay was the only one who survived. What makes him that special? It was because while his mother was driving him away from the town, she pushed him out of the car and Lay rolled down the hill into the river. Lay can swim and that technique itself is an advantage to his helpless situation. He looked back and saw how his mother smiled, coughing blood after and stopped breathing on the steering wheel.

 

“—to be there tomorrow.” Inspector Huang’s voice resumes from his train of thoughts and Lay has to blink several times before facing the Inspector with a blank face. Inspector Huang knows Lay for the past months already and he’s so used to Lay spacing out during quiet times. And so, he rolls his eyes before saying, “Not again Lay. Stop spacing out in the middle of something important will you? I’m giving good news here.”

 

“Oh. What is it? Sorry just…thinking of something.”

 

“Right. As I was saying, you are expected in Seoul, South Korea tomorrow. Two-way plane tickets ready. These are orders from the officials.”

 

Lay thinks and already knows why he was expected there according to his assumption but made no effort in talking back like how he was a minute ago. Because Inspector Huang is an easy person to annoy with and Lay is kind of risking his image to this young man. “Why am I expected in that far away land? I remember doing nothing but help others, do I?” Lay pretends.

 

“Argh! Not that you idiot! Why are you so good in crime scenes but lack in simple logic? Are you seriously the famous detective wanna-be or you’re his doppelganger?”

 

“Kidding.” Lay grins this time when Inspector Huang scoffs and leaves. The tall piercing eyes Inspector is far more distant to him now and Lay couldn’t help but smile. Without the Inspector, Lay wouldn’t even have somebody to trust to. So now that Korea is waiting for him, Lay hopefully wish that enough of the people there could speak English since it was the universal language from the first place because Korean language is just not his case to study.

 

Lay sighs, raises his left hand to glance at his wrist watch. Still have enough time to buy the land lady a pack of rice. This is Lay’s way of surviving. If he isn’t seen in the crime scene all over China, Lay is currently living a normal life; thanking almost half of his life to the land lady of his apartment ever since he was saved by this blessed old woman during the time of his loss, giving her pack of rice if she was out of it, cleaning the stairs for her and doing daily chores inside his flat. Aside from that, Lay would just sit down on his own room and read news, solve them if necessary and just exerting all his effort in helping the people of China.

 

But this is about to change, news spread so fast it beats the signal of every wifi all over Asia. So Lay half-expected an invitation that may possible came from different countries aside from the corners of China but all throughout the year, there aren’t any invitations yet. Not until the Chinese police department tries to help this mystery news they heard off lurking in Korea and decided for Lay to take a visit and sees if he can solve it by himself. If Lay is lucky enough and lend a hand to the Koreans, the bond of China and Korea would likely be compared to that of chains.

 

Korea isn’t that far. Korea is a start and Korea possess secret crimes that are tough to deal with but Lay prepares himself. The mystery books he has were written in English or Pinyin but not in Hangul. That’s why Lay tries tonight, searching basic Korean words and rolls it out of his tongue. It came out pretty badly and Lay is on the edge of giving up but decides to just keep it in mind and prays for someone on that land to have at least one person who can speak in Mandarin, Cantonese or English. Any of these three, Lay can outlive with that.

 

“Why did it have to be Korea?” Lay rubs his eyes and freely let himself fall backwards to his own mat on the floor.

 

 

 

 

卍 卍 卍

He watches the man stabs himself numerous times on the stomach, crimson thick blood oozing out of the flesh while the piece of cloth gagging the man from time to time. Bored at the scene, he presses the remote on his left hand and continued watching the injured man screaming in pain. That’s what he gets on not making it exciting, he thinks. The remote is connected to the metallic bracelet of the man who is currently sitting on a chair with a blindfold and while his left hand is cuffed to the back of the chair along with his ankles cuffed in the legs of the chair, right hand which is stabbing his own stomach still moving.

 

“You’re a one boring hopeless man. I hope you go rot in hell.” Deep voice reverberated among the walls of a run-down warehouse. He presses the remote again and sends an electrifying feeling to the victim. Screams continues, wincing and cursing become shouts of a defenseless man. He didn’t care as long as the victim suffers. Suffers like he used to. It will hunt him later but he didn’t care. Vengeance is pure bliss to him now.

 

With gloves on, he bends to face the victim and puts his hand on top of the shaking victim’s stabbing right hand before roughly jerking it away then back to the open cut flesh. The screams are louder now that he is adding to the action. Before he knows it, he harshly grabs the knife and slits the victim’s throat wide. Left a great display of the stretched veins and skin of the neck that is connected to the jaw of the face. Nice view actually.

 

He stands up straight, tilting his head to his right with eyes curious if the victim still insist on showing any signs of life. Luckily, it didn’t and he is so happy he did it again. Again, again and again. The tall man with clean cut black hair gets his phone from his pocket and snaps a photo to the victim, sending it directly to the police department not before leaving no trace of his doings. But he sure says one thing.

 

“Dobi.”

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four unfortunate souls, different yet similar, far yet too close and has the ability to contribute into society but will their intentions stay the same from the start ? Humans are born with fickle minds after all.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot per se.  
> Author's notes: My first straight-as-a-rainbow story and warnings for how lame it's written and queue.

 

 

THE FIRST TIME most of the students caught a glimpse of this boy was back in those days that he wants to forget. He did actually but then it always hunts him down to the point where he needs to think of some ways to make it stop. And again, he almost did. Counting the dead bodies after him, then yes, he almost did. He is Park Chanyeol.

 

Chanyeol stares at the pieces of pages the bullies ripped from his books lying on the hallway’s ground. It falls out of his locker when being opened. He stares, long enough to feel the moist leaving the whiteness of his eyes. He bends, picks it one by one before tucking it in his navy blue uniform’s pocket. Chanyeol smiles despite the fact that he won’t pass their exams tomorrow now that his sources aren’t reliable.

 

Chanyeol bears pain and pain is good if he’s accustom to it ever since Chanyeol was being thrown out of the family just because the truth submerges from the surface stating he was indeed a child from another woman that’s not related to the bloodline of the Park family. Nevertheless, Chanyeol still uses the surname Park. He likes it and he thinks that it suits his first name just fine so he’ll use it, forget the family. His father didn’t do anything to hold him back. The ungrateful old bastard just watched Chanyeol making his way out of their house after the commotion of the truth and dropped the hellish school.

 

This is the real world, Chanyeol thinks. Too many problems, too many bullshits. Chanyeol always tries surviving. And so, on a rainy night, Chanyeol found himself renting small apartments from week after week. He can’t afford for a month. No, that will be too expensive and hell Chanyeol works on a mini club where people usually don’t go—cause it sucks and the pathetic exterior and interior designs didn’t help either—every night to pay for the rent or simply, for living. He’s still decent though, to just occupy the job of maintaining the numbers of delivered products, special thanks to his co-worker Kim Minseok.

 

Minseok, bartender, is Chanyeol’s friend by accident. These two met when Chanyeol was dumped and soaked under the rain, beside the pile of trashes outside the club fifteen steps away. Having the organ called heart, Minseok decided to approach the taller and you may guess what follows after that. Chanyeol didn’t trust himself getting a firm grip to every bottle Minseok is carrying, let alone doing tricks and mixing drinks. A reason to give up on trying to land on the same job with Minseok. He knows he isn’t good enough but Chanyeol did try on the waiter part or even on the cleaning part but neither of it were suitable for him. Who needs cleaning anyway? It’s not like it’s a hotel or Gondola to waste sweat on. For clarity, Chanyeol stays counting the shipping items. The hosting part is far too out of his mind, even though the temptation of getting laid is teasingly displayed right on the tip of his nose.

 

Before Chanyeol was disowned by the Park Family, born with an incredible height, big ears, eyes always seems so curious, awkward limbs failing and facial muscles that didn’t go well with his whole figure, are the exact reasons students in his college bullies him. _Tall freak is playing safe_ , they’d whined. _That unblessed giant is stomping his way here! Be careful people! What the hell dumb? Can’t you see I’m working on something here? Heard your mother’s a whore._

 

 _That’s alright. Maybe they find my existence someone useful to let their problems out of their lungs_ , Chanyeol smiles. He closes his locker before turning away and walks his usual pace to his classroom. But of course, his day wouldn’t be complete if bullies are absent. A girl tiptoes and pulls Chanyeol’s ears. He didn’t do anything, Chanyeol _fucking_ bows to her instead. The girl spits on him, disgusted before cursing him and made a quick turn, obviously eager to get out of the freak in the same spot. The bullies joined forces, declaring Chanyeol as the school’s big punching dumb bag.

 

Laughter bursts from every corners and Chanyeol proceeds on walking away. He isn’t a masochist because Chanyeol only wants to understand the inner characteristics of every person. Why do they do that? What happens behind tough faces? If Chanyeol wasn’t disowned, he has the perfect opportunity to study Psychology and become Seoul’s best psychiatrist, possible. That was Chanyeol’s way of thinking 5 years ago.

 

“Where were you last night?” A sharp look being freely thrown to Chanyeol’s sitting form on the counter. Chanyeol shrugs and rubs his head instead. His coworker is being all-too motherly now and Chanyeol really had the hard time groaning at the small man wearing his daily bartender outfit, arms crossed and frown perfectly relaxing on his face.

 

“You know how I stayed overnight just to double check those items back and it’s new to me. Thanks to you.”

 

“Sorry, Man. I—”

 

“Overslept? Oh no, don’t give me that Mister!”

 

Chanyeol laughs, he does really happy to see the older of the two acting his age right now but if Minseok is the one cracking stupid jokes, _act the age my ass_. Minseok unfolds his arms, leans over and flicks Chanyeol’s forehead. This twitching giant didn’t change at all. Minseok is expecting a little bit cool side of Chanyeol now that the taller got his new hair cut but Minseok is purely wrong. Chanyeol’s dumb expressions are more vivid compared to him having blonde locks. Minseok silently wished he has his rug with him to wipe the face off.

 

“Ouch. For a small guy like you, you can really flick hard.” Chanyeol teases which only earns him a finger for the walking Minseok. He laughs again at the sight, a hamster giving you a finger. What more do you want from this bizarre world? “Stop the nonsense, Yeol. Explain.”

 

“Let’s see. I thought it was my day-off so I didn’t care even if it’s the end of the universe and went to parks, ate ice cream, mocking the dogs, scaring a flock of bystander birds and—”

 

“Whole day?”

 

“Uh, yeah.”

 

“How about the nig—”

 

“Night is where I sleep, Minseokie hyung.” Chanyeol’s genuine answer makes Minseok thinks that maybe this time, Chanyeol is saying the truth. Not those other nights where Chanyeol keep on apologizing like he was scared Minseok will fire him or tie him somewhere, not those nights where Chanyeol will glare at him and push him aside instead. Chanyeol is happy. Minseok wants that exact picture to see from Chanyeol and he is being rewarded today. He smiles at Chanyeol then ruffles his hair in adoration. Chanyeol is 24 but still a kid by heart.

 

“You should’ve texted me so I can accompany you. Next time, neh?” Part of Minseok wants to know what Chanyeol’s real name is since the boy just introduced himself as Yeol and only Yeol because he was disowned, he’d said. But Minseok didn’t want to pry on something the taller boy doesn’t want to open up just yet. He can wait.

 

The younger nods, swats Minseok’s hand away and wrinkles his nose. He watches Minseok proceeded on cleaning the counter and when Chanyeol knows that Minseok isn’t paying attention, he frowns and rubs some crimson stains on the forearm of his jacket. _Damn, didn’t notice it’s still here_ , Chanyeol internally panics but stays put. Luckily, his jacket is almost the same to the crimson one. People wouldn’t notice if they don’t squint.

 

Unbeknownst to Minseok, Chanyeol dwells some conflictive intentions inside.

 

 

 

 

 

卍 卍 卍

The harsh push, passing shoulders and the abrasive thumps of scampering feet didn’t do any good to Lay’s entering figure. People in Metropolitan Police Department (MPD), whether that’s in China, Korea or any part of the world, Lay knows how beast-like these people work. So complaining how inconsiderate they are not to welcome Lay will result to him having a bucket full of ice. Get the right track, hospitality isn’t a word here. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees one person taking a different route. Lay could only twist his eyebrows.

 

Shouts, orders, cases and calls are flying everywhere like fog of dusk. Lay almost lost the head of the person who brought him there. This is too much of a foreign land to him and losing the only person he knows is like dying before realizing the food is just right ahead of him. Lay focuses and hopes that he isn’t boring some holes to that Korean man heading to the right corner and into the brownish room, thank God. With difficulty, Lay stumbles and before his head could hit the wooden material, his survivor caught him on his shoulder. Nothing romantic about it _at all_.

 

“Thanks, Inspector Kim.” Lay exhales loudly, straightens his baby blue hoody-jacket and runs his fingers to the small locks of his blonde hair, feeling it for a moment before finally glancing up. Jongdae, on his right, is the Korean Inspector who fetched him in the airport an hour ago. Lay remembered the name from Inspector Huang’s words and heard about him too. Perfect, a Korean who can speak Chinese so they got an automatic interpreter now, less hassle. _Today’s a blessing_ , Lay thinks.

 

A clearing of raspy throat, Lay recognizes the man sitting behind the desk. He is the head of Korea’s MPD, Mr. Kim Youngwoon. Korea too gave birth to many unrelated same surnames. Youngwoon gives him a look, eyeing him from head to his pitiable pair of sneakers. At that moment, Lay knows what exactly Mr. Kim Youngwoon is thinking. It’s easier to decipher minds through eyes for basics by the way. And Lay could tell that his simple garments are being compared to that of a highschooler trying to shoplift, by Mr. Kim Youngwoon.

 

“This…is him?” Youngwoon asks Jongdae instead, tone flat.

 

“Yes, Sir. This is _The_ Lay they are talking about.”

 

“I won’t lie. I expected a badass Chinese looking Sherlock before you came in.” Youngwoon taps his cigarette on the ashtray, places it to his lips and exhales strong smoke. Jongdae translates after. Lay won’t lie either, so he coughs not-so-respectfully and pats his own chest. He didn’t mean any trouble apparently.

 

“Whoaw. You sure can smoke that amount of molecules.” Lay continues to fan away the air but was later grab by Jongdae, giving him a warning look and Lay nods. He lowers his hand and clasps it with the other. Koreans are tough and all too egoistic. They need to work on their right brain more. Being unbiased, Jongdae translates it to Youngwoon.

 

“And are you sure you are not here because you run away from home, kid? Or you plan to shopli—”

 

“My apology to interrupt you, Mr. Kim Youngwoon, but can I check someone on your department? Because I can’t seem to let it out of my head. He wears a janitor suit but something slipped out of his boots, a hard drive. He grabs it not knowing I saw it all.” Lay is now so into his own world that he didn’t notice Youngwoon and Jongdae staring at him like he speaks Latin or symbols. Jongdae’s interpreting didn’t stop. The cigarette in Youngwoon’s fingers almost crash but before that, Lay’s next words registers.

 

“He’s…uh…black. Well, I’m nothing against black and I’m not being racist here. It seems like he’s a trainee or something? What I’m saying is…he acts suspicious and he went into the fire exit while the others went to their designated posts, working. What is that janitor doing there?” Lay is definitely talking to himself now, tapping the bottom of his lip while looking up to the ceiling.

 

Youngwoon feels something and he hates to admit but the atmosphere changed when this so called soon-to-be Detective standing on the same ground with him is sharing some information. He abruptly looks at Jongdae with eyes full of uncertainty. Jongdae copes up and about to flee away from the room but was stopped by Lay on the very last minute.

 

“What now? Can’t you see I’m going to clarify it?” Jongdae says. He is annoyed by the sudden halt.

 

“Wait. That’s the time of my arrival here in this building uhmm…West Wing. He won’t get too far. If I’ll have it estimated, by now, he is…”

 

“He is?”

 

The door bursts open, revealing a group of uniformed men. One of them salutes, “Inspector Kim Jongdae and Head Officer Kim Youngwoon, we have arrested the foreigner trainee, Jack McClain. Attempt of hacking the whole database files on the 6th floor. He plans on bringing it to his country for terrorism.”

 

Jongdae and Youngwoon are both on their feet and salutes. They exchanges information and wordings that by the sound of it, Lay can tell what it is all about. Not new, same cases in China, same reasons, same looks of fear being caught and same aura of hiding something. Lay cranes his neck and stretches. He can’t wait to handle that one particular case that Korea’s MPD hides outside the national country itself. Why, though? Maybe afraid of the feedbacks and critiques that they are going to get? Can be. But this case intrigues him more.

 

The other officers disappeared and Youngwoon sighs, “Give the kid some pending cases. I’m still not convinced. It might be just his luck today but if he proves that wrong, then wait for an order for me about the special case. Do I make myself clear?”

 

“Yes, Sir!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Since it’s your first few hours of staying here and our Head Officer isn’t yet amuse by your skills then take a few glances to these cases, will you?” Jongdae slides ten brown folders in front of Lay while he takes a sip of his coffee, studying Lay’s disappointed expression. They are in Jongdae’s cubicle after dismissing in Youngwoon’s office. And starts the job right after, more like Jongdae finding a promising opportunity to relax.

 

“Why am I not handling the real purpose of my visit?” Lay asks, not hiding any upset tone anymore.

 

“Clearly, my dear Chinese friend, because Mr. Kim Youngwoon doesn’t trust your capability on even getting a good look on that case. Understood? So impress him and I will suggest, starting now.”

 

Lay sighs in resignation, might as well impress the big guy to access the troublesome protectable file. He distributes the folders on the table and opens one after another, studies them. Jongdae smirks at this and let his head fall to the head supporter of his chair. Lay may be blessed to have some mind like his but the guy isn’t perfect and Jongdae thinks that this Chinese dude is easier to trick than he would have imagine.

 

“Where are the others of these?”

 

“Huh? You’re done with it?” Jongdae sits upright. What happen? Jongdae just closed his eyes and Lay’s done? How come?

 

“No. I want the other files.”

 

Jongdae narrows his eyes, where is this going? “What do you mean you want? That’s given to you so study that.”

 

“Are we seriously going through this?”

 

Jongdae is now confused as heck. It’s like Lay is his superior and didn’t just meet him for the first time in the airport, “Going through what? Hey are you mindfucking me now?”

 

“Can’t be help. You see Inspector Kim, giving me your own cases to solve instead of the real cases that were assigned to me by the Head Officer is a very selfish act. These files aren’t that difficult to report on and they’re minimal compared to the other officers in this room.”

 

“What makes you say that! You don’t have any proof.” Jongdae insists on but he gulps inside because Lay isn’t even dumb like he used to think minutes ago.

 

“The empty shelf on that side,” Lay points to Jongdae’s back, he has to turn to see where Lay is pointing,” is where these folders were placed before. It’s funny because although I don’t really mind the arrangement of things mostly, my brain just directly tells me when I see one. While passing the other cubicles to reach yours, I just happen to notice the standardized pattern. Folders here are the same too and it’s obviously each officer’s own reports and cases. What you think?”

 

Jongdae is speechless. Jongdae wants to hide and Jongdae blames himself for testing Lay secretly. Hell he wouldn’t do it again. Hell he would find someone not as smartass as this Chinese dude here to troll with. Praise the heaven, Jongdae manage to form a quick smile but was slowly faltering and he has to cover it up with the fullness of his mug before it might reach the floor.

 

A sudden laugh escapes Lay’s lips. _God, Jongdae’s so head-caught_. He pats his stomach, setting the folders aside so he could rest his face onto the table and Jongdae is obviously red by humiliation. Lay sits slowly and stares at Jongdae with a smile, “Conjecture. That’s just my conjecture. You didn’t have to feel guilty. You just made it obvious. A conjecture with lack of enough evidence is nothing but a mere guess. I thought you would demand enough proof but you went…red. Breathe, Inspector.”

 

The Inspector calm down a bit but shoot Lay one last glare before offering his mug, “Alright, should’ve known not to test you. Right, get it. My fault. Whatever. Coffee?”

 

Lay shakes his head, “Tea is my cup not coffee. Thanks.”

 

 

 

 

 

卍 卍 卍

Three days deadline prolongs to five, Kris doesn’t think. He doesn’t want to think for a second. Because all he sees, even with closed eyelids, is a fuming Luhan ready to shove the papers to Kris’ mouth. Kris finished his report and successfully got some clue about the perpetrator but it didn’t make sense to his own, what more to Luhan? It’s illogic and nonsense and proof-free. How will Kris tell Luhan that this dead man’s case is somewhat related to the other homicide reports from months ago just because some letterings engraved were present? And Kris got the feeling of it? His report is completely ridiculous and came from someone 4 years of age. Not even coherent to think of.

 

Kris fixes his caramel-like colored cardigan, facing the whole-length mirror and doesn’t think. Although, he doesn’t want to think, little voices are dancing from both end ears. No brilliant ideas to completely shut it or else he’d gone deaf. He sighs. Baekhyun isn’t around. After the boy had arranged everything up, he went back to his place to fetch few more boxes of his own and will be back in 4 days. As if Kris cares, he’s more than happy to have all the time alone.

 

It didn’t take long for Kris to reach the MPD’s building—their building and his place of job, obviously. Same mornings, same bustles of whatever these guys are making noises of and same smell of workaholic addicts. Kris simply walks straight with no visible difficulty to his part, courtesy of his insane height for an Asian. An automatic passageway is easily made just for him. Nobody wants to question that. Nobody wants to mess up with him especially in the early morning. Have you ever heard of an exception maybe?

 

“You are late.”

 

Of course, a deer on the loose. Kris walks pass him, not giving any acknowledgement to the unwanted presence and continues to flip through the pages of his report. Luhan isn’t pleased with this man either, clicks his tongue and says while following behind, “Due date is due date, Kris. You didn’t submit it on time and on top of that, you are late…again. So the high possibility of us not being partners in this case is very skyline level. You hear me? You’ll have to work on the other not so imperative nuts. ”

 

“Get lost, Luhan. I don’t need any nagging from you at this hour.” Kris’ steps quickens, avoiding to get cornered by the deer man behind. He really isn’t on the mood to talk about it or to be reprimanded any further. He already knows it alright, saying it on his face is like adding another tablespoon of salt into his glass of water. And Kris didn’t wish to taste a bit of that.

 

“Listen to me, Kris! I’m still higher than you—”

 

“Excuse me, Officer Luhan. You are needed in the Forensic Investigation Unit 2, East Wing. They want to hear your opinion, ASAP.” Another police officer showed in between Kris and Luhan’s gap, successfully interrupting whatever Luhan’s speech is about. Probably about his position and rights and nags to Kris and whatnots. Kris smirks and practically walks out from the sight, taking his right turn but still hears Luhan’s “We’re not yet done, Kris! I’ll be back.”

 

“I’m not going to hear the end of this.” Kris murmurs. Sometimes if he has a spare time to think of this devil, Kris would wish that Luhan will be promoted in the nearest future and assigned to the other side of the earth so he could at least have a peaceful grand morning for once in this office. That isn’t much to ask for. It isn’t, for Kris defense, since he was always the receiving end. Ok, not always but most of the time.

 

It’s only after he takes the next turn he bumps into someone that Kris realizes he hasn’t been paying attention to where he actually is really going. But enough for him to grab a hold of the person’s arm and prevent the unfortunate soul from falling. Kris isn’t in the mood, he frowns once both of them stands on equilibrium. He’s greeted by a bright head that he hasn’t even seen lurking in their office for the entire period of his stay. Blonde that might blind people from staring at it for too long with the reflection of the sunlight that didn’t lessen any intensity. His frown deepens, no police officer will dye their hair as if this is some sort of pop entertainment to audition for.

 

Kris takes in the whole figure, from blonde to the simple blue and white stripe arm-length shirt, jeans and white sneakers. _Not a delivery man or a newbie again_ , Kris groans inwardly. The man blinks at him and to Kris’ hands. He steps back a little and pulls his arms slightly, hoping that Kris would just let go. Luckily, Kris did notice and retrieves it back to his side. He felt how empty handed he is now and Kris frantically search for the folder of his report. He is about to bend and pick it up once he saw it lying helplessly on the floor but the said blonde is fast to initiate the move.

 

“Sorry.” The smaller one of the two said, folder offering mid-air. But because Kris didn’t have the nice day to begin with, he just snatches the folder from the blonde’s hands, “Next time, watch where you’re going. And please dye your hair into more presentable-looking color for a rookie police officer like the others. This isn’t a place for a bright head to flaunt like that.” He walks away like the corridor belongs to him. Rookies nowadays, no sense of responsibilities on their own.

 

If Kris didn’t just let his irritation get in the way, he would’ve noticed the blonde’s slightly awkward accent, his confuse state when the words of Kris didn’t make sense to him and his daze expression on why it was considered his fault by the sound of Kris’ tone. Of course he wouldn’t even guess that he is Chinese or not even from there. The taller man is not in the mood, after all.

 

Lay watches the irritated man walks out and strides like he was in a fucking runway before disappearing. He couldn’t help but admire the gifted height and the face, minus the frown and the bossy act. Wondering what that would do to his life if he possesses those blessings. But considering plastic surgery isn’t in Lay’s dictionary. People who bear artificial implants are just desperate to be recognized and worshipped. Lay is doing perfectly useful in the society, blessed his skills.

 

“That man is surely stressful.” Lay says and shakes his head in pity. He hears footsteps approaching and whips his head in a second to see Jongdae jogging his way to his direction, brown envelope in hands. Jongdae stops in a respectable distance and wiggles the envelope, “Confirmed! You’re a beast Lay, you know that? For two days you managed to help us solve 56 cases without any doubt! Damn, I could just let you do my work.”

 

Lay chuckles and tucks his right hand into his jean’s pocket. This Jongdae guy is fun to be with for the last two days of a helping hand Lay. He does the talkings and sometimes teaching Lay how to troll their paranoids and workaholic co-workers. Jongdae is a friend you want to be with but not entirely because he can use his tactics to you first before to other people and that isn’t fun if it started from you, is it?

 

“What’s the formal word of ‘sorry’? Is it ‘Mianhae’ or ‘Chosunghamnida’ ? I think I said it wrong.” Lay is trying to recall if he had said it right or not but Jongdae just gave him a confused look. Maybe he has said it wrong, that’s why that tall man is more irritated hearing Lay’s sorry? Lay is blaming his inadequacy of memorizing the formal and informal Korean words. Why do they have to have separate words from the first place? To use or not to use words to a stranger or whatever, Lay is bad at it in all honesty.

 

“What? You know, whatever. I want you to take a good look on this. Your suspicion is confirmed! And Mr. Kim Youngwoon is really proud of it. Will be announcing it to the media so that the perpetrator would cower in fear once he sees his name on the whole nation. Sounds good, yeah?”

 

Lay takes the envelope, opens it and pulls the papers from the inside. He sees his own report, with a red seal of ‘APPROVED’ on it. Next, he sees the markings he did and the different pictures of the three victims that are proven related to the same perpetrator. This is the case Lay is being sent for and he got what he wants. MPD of China will be pleased to hear this. The only problem is, Lay knows he isn’t half-way there to capture the suspect yet and by the intuition Lay is feeling, this case isn’t going to end well.

 

His clues maybe or maybe not accurate but it was approved by the local police and Korean detectives that they made the same findings on this special case. Lay is the first one to figure out the perpetrator’s name. And Lay would do everything to get more clues from this person. If he isn’t mistaken, the said perpetrator is actually purposely leaving some hints.

 

Lay focuses his eyes on the next letters.

 

 

_Park Chanyeol_

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♚ There’s a lot of thinking to do in here. I want to jump to the main point already but where’s the fun in that? The gist is all in my head, I want to play with it. So yeah, many pending hues of emotions are still waiting to be written.


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four unfortunate souls, different yet similar, far yet too close and has the ability to contribute into society but will their intentions stay the same from the start ? Humans are born with fickle minds after all.
> 
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> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot per se.  
> Author's notes: My first straight-as-a-rainbow story and warnings for how lame it's written and queue.

 

 

BAEKHYUN LOCKS THE door before turning away. He make sure to glance back at least, reminiscing how he started with his now former apartment, but life moves on and Baekhyun—with or without choice—needs to swim with the flow. _Clean and clear_ , Baekhyun thinks while twirling the key on his slender index finger. He uses the flight of rusty stairs, taking his time because although Baekhyun wouldn’t admit it, he consciously didn’t want to leave. But then, he convinces himself to look on the bright side where he could learn a lot of things from his sunbae Kris Wu during his stay in the new apartment. That’s enough for him not to be doubtful.

 

During the last 2 hours, Baekhyun successfully had strewn all of his important belongings to their shared apartment. It isn’t that tough, Baekhyun loves to walk. And besides, the location of his former and new apartment isn’t San Francisco Bridge length, so no fret. He just needs to know the shortcut on reaching the other side of the boulevard. Not a problem, Baekhyun has a good sense of direction and he’s more than grateful to use it. Awhile ago, he saw no Kris in their flat. Still, he proceeded and let the remaining boxes and bags invaded the room. He knows by the way he can see in Kris that the tall guy is nothing but a workaholic man. Just that Kris has his own way and Baekhyun didn’t need to inquiry about that.

 

Once reaching the ground floor where the landlady is, Baekhyun taps the window and not long before she opens it and sees Baekhyun’s smile. She gives him a look but remembers immediately why the boy is there, “Be depositing the key now, Byun Baekhyun?” she asks with a tried and hoarse voice. She’s more than a middle age woman alright.

 

“Yes Ma’am. I guess, I’m officially leaving this place. I’m upset about it too, you know.” Baekhyun replies with all honesty.

 

“Poor thing. And I guess, I’ll be missing you too. It’s rare to have pretty boy living in this uninviting-looking building. I hope you all the best! Fighting!”

 

“Thank you so much for looking out for me. Take good care of your health, Fighting!”

 

Baekhyun hands the key back, bows to the landlady, tucks his empty hands on both pockets and welcomes the chilly breeze of the night. Now he doesn’t have the reason to look back, he has decided to face the new opportunity of his life. One thing he regretted though is packing and transporting the boxes in the evening. Why didn’t he do it earlier? Oh right, he’s been out buying the latest edition of his newly addicted book almost the whole afternoon. He saw it in the internet and risked his time searching in town.

 

It has been four days since he first saw Kris with an awkward first meeting to call it an experience. And now, it seems that Kris and Baekhyun aren’t even in the same path again. The guy loves to give his attention more to his reports than to his new roommate anyway. Doesn’t matter, Baekhyun can learn by himself and will be just hearing his Sunbae-nim’s corrections or guides. At least he wouldn’t be much of a bothersome to Kris. Or so he thinks, because for all he knows, Baekhyun couldn’t even keep his mouth shut when something intrigues him. It just how his eyes to the mind directly mouth works.

 

Passing a few stores, he skips contentedly on the pavement. A much cooler breeze decides to let its power shoves Baekhyun to the left and he really had the hard time maintaining his balance. _Nobody saw that_ , Baekhyun convinces himself but didn’t dare to look around because he doesn’t want to see chuckling people or anything that will make him look like a laughing item.“Aish! Perfect timing, I miss the signal.” Baekhyun muttered. Truly, a hand-to-hand couple which he was with them side by side is now on the other division of the road. They didn’t get kick by the wind with their luck of holding onto each other while Baekhyun is just a sample of pathetic and unlucky figure.

 

Now the signal says ‘stop’. Baekhyun unfortunately missed the chance to cross over the pedestrian lane. He sighs and shakes his head. Waiting for another ‘go’ signal will only lengthen out the lateness of his arrival to the new building. So Baekhyun doesn’t wait for that. He checks his wristwatch, it states 11:35pm and that isn’t good because Baekhyun isn’t really fond of embracing the night alone in the street.

 

He remembers another route of shortcut to reach the other side and smacks his own forehead for not thinking it before embarrassing himself. _How long will I be this slow-thinking individual?_ He jogs for it. The buildings that surround him aren’t really the same but the fact that most of it was so close to each other makes Baekhyun thinks that one lit of fire may cause a huge disaster to this town. _Again, thinking of worst scenario, Baekhyun you better stop it._

 

As he casually came into a dark section of the pathway, Baekhyun lost the sense of hearing. Not literally but mentally. He hears no one and Baekhyun has to stop and glance behind. Exactly what he thinks, _no one_. A strong shiver runs down his spinal column, like something is about to happen. _What do I expect? Of course there is no one in this shortcut route. It’s 11 for God’s sake_ , Baekhyun internally scolds himself. But why does it feel like his sense of direction is telling him to take the highway pavement again instead of this? Why didn’t Baekhyun listen to his instinct and became stubborn and chooses to continue? Because fate had marked Baekhyun’s starting point of the twisted game on this very moment without his consent.

 

The boy shrugs, hugs his torso and tries to think other fortunate events like what will he do if he gets promoted when things work out perfectly, how many friends will he have on his job or what will it be like having his own repor—

 

A muffled scream makes Baekhyun’s skin hairs stand on every end. An automatic reaction of halting, Baekhyun freezes. He didn’t move for awhile. He thinks, the scream is just an illusion made up by his senseless mind. His right foot is ought to take its next step when another muffled scream is heard. This time, Baekhyun knows he isn’t just hearing things. This got to be real. The scream obviously came from the same person who is currently suffering. Baekhyun needs more time to process what the hell he should do.

 

Call a cop? Even though he himself is an initiate? That would only make him look useless and inactive for a beginner but heck Baekhyun didn’t even know the other half of the basics and now he is facing some real-life situation. What should he do? Pretend that he didn’t hear it? No. Baekhyun should show justice and trusting his own self is the only option he got. Over the course of internal debate, Baekhyun closes his eyes and releases a strong sigh through his nose, blinks hard after. He decides not to be one of those tight-lipped people.

 

Probably never been this strong-willed person, Baekhyun cautiously follows the sound to the left. The lamppost nearby flickers before it eventually dies out. It really did give Baekhyun the eerie feeling. He’s definitely risking a large amount of guts his bones could support. Backing out? Not now. He’s needed by someone. First step, second, third and a forced scrape of the sole of his shoes. Baekhyun swallows his spit. The grip on the hem of his jacket tightens as well as his throat as he gets nearer to the scene.

 

Two silhouetted figures appear under the shaded shadow of the moonlight. One seems like bending and trying to move the other figure. Was it…dead or just unconscious? What did this bending man do? Baekhyun can’t think rational now that his feet are refusing to withdraw. He came this far, he can’t just chicken out like his own physical appearance would display. His right hand reaches out for his pocket, almost on instinct, to the bolster and to his gun. Only then Baekhyun realizes that he hasn’t yet purchase the required model Luhan assigned to him. _Damn shit luck_.

 

Hissing profanities under his breath is what Baekhyun could do but never did it cross in his actions to stop. He carefully hides behind the dirty old brick wall next to the color of cal poly green large box of trash bin. This will be the end of him if he let his hands do work without the affirmation of his mind. Slowly, Baehyun peeks. Breaths uneven, mind irrational, hands trembling and heart about to explode in his ribcage. _No gun for all of the sakes of the Saints out there_. How’s Baekhyun suppose to arrest the suspect? If ever the first silhouetted man did kill the motionless figure?

 

Baekhyun shakes his head, he needs to concentrate. What he sees made him cringed. He just witnessed by visualizing through the pinpricks amount of light how the suspect takes the knife precisely out of the slanting sitting figure’s flesh, whom has leaned against the wall. In fact, figure number one doesn’t possess an average height. If Baekhyun didn’t know any Kris, then figure number one may considered an immense tall cynical man he sees in front of his vigilant eyes. Or maybe he’s about Kris’ height too? Maybe shorter by an inch?

 

The tall figure pulls his gloves out from both hands before pocketing it inside his jean’s back pocket. Baekhyun waits a little. He doesn’t even know what he is waiting for, yet he decided to wait. The guy mutters something Baekhyun didn’t catch on. This makes him frown. Who in the world wouldn’t be curious at this moment? Baekhyun is more than curious. Although with trembling hands, Baekhyun tries to move a bit. And being Baekhyun he is, bounded with forsaken luck, the sole of his left sneaker scratches the uneven surface of the pavement when he tries to get a closer view.

 

Grim realization washes over the edifice of Baekhyun’s face. He prays that the sound of the unintentional scrape was only heard by him and no one else, with his palpitating heartbeats. But the panic noise tells him otherwise. Then steep shuffles and other audible movements of sort make its way to Baekhyun’s ears. Left with no other option, he detaches himself from the wall and decides to display his presence to the open cage of the predator.

 

He sprints forward, prepared to attack the suspect, only to be greeted by the now lifeless victim. Baekhyun stops abruptly, confused. Where did the suspect go between those milliseconds of his appearance? He frantically look from his right to left, no signs of the tall unidentified man. This makes it creepier. Baekhyun hates it. The suspect was right in front of his eyes awhile ago and he just let it off like that. _How useless of me,_ Baekhyun hissed. He tries to look around, again, no sign of any living creature. A chirp of crickets in the night is a normalcy. Baekhyun is indeed frustrated, as if he isn’t terrified earlier.

 

Sighing, cursing and a harsh tug of his hair, there’s nothing he can do. Only he and the victim are in sight. _The victim_. Baekhyun strides to the right, where the victim was left alone. He squats, covers his nose. The rancid smell of the blood mixed with some infected cuts reached Baekhyun’s inmost organs, his stomach voluntarily churns. He wants to vomit, he really needs to but he thinks of being disrespectful to the dead may results to unwanted outcome. _Wait, was it really dead?_

 

Baekhyun holds the wrist and let his two fingers touch the pulse. No palpitations. No pulse. No breathings. He releases it with a deflated hope of saving someone for the last minute. His eyes travels to the act of gruesome deed the suspect had done. And seeing the internal organs of another person that close made up a mound of all the food he had eaten that day rushed up all the way to his throat, mouth and finally, out of his lips. Good thing he felt it fast enough to throw up away from the victim’s figure.

 

He’s on both knees, throwing up a little bit longer. Baekhyun doesn’t remember when the last time he threw up in his life was. Because throwing up is the last thing he could think of. But hell with it, the nauseating stench, the spluttered and endlessly poured blood, burst out stomach, divided large and small disoriented intestines, the belly wide cut that almost separated the upper and lower part of the victim’s anatomy. How will Baekhyun not vomit in this sight? Not to mention, he is so close for his own comfort. He never planned on taking up medical courses but bitter fate has its own way.

 

“Damnit. Why did I have to take all of this shit tonight?” Baekhyun mutters with difficulty. Face red, palms imprinted by the small curvature of the ground, knees beginning to teeter when he sluggishly stands up. He feels like his heart was on his throat while throwing up. That’s the saddest part of it, puking your heart out unintentionally. Certain that he regains his balance, Baekhyun wiped his teary eyes and mouth with the back of his hands. He needs to call help and report this as soon as possible. Because that’s the only logical thing to do right now and he swears he never wanna witness gore scene in front of his ineffable eyes again.

 

Baekhyun fishes out his phone, blinks simultaneously and dials. He really hopes there’s a police station nearby, much nearer than his place of work. The MPD’s building isn’t that very far, perhaps riding a helicopter will take him there less than 5 minutes but well…Baekhyun doesn’t have any luck. The moment when he places the phone on his left ear, it was grabbed out from his grip ruthlessly. And in a swift movement, Baekhyun is pinned sharply to the brick wall.

 

He let out a penetrating shrill when he felt how his wrist is in someone’s suffocating grasp, how his body is blocked by another, how a forearm under his chin to his neck is kinetically shoved without any hesitation and how his back is plastered to the wall behind. Baekhyun barely breathe. Still, he has to open his eyes and visualize the attacker’s face.

 

“Who are you calling? You’re gonna report what you have seen? Wrong choice.” The voice of his attacker is surprisingly profound, much deeper than Kris’ and has a woody fragrance. A scent that’s somehow still deep and boozy, with rum, cognac and a little bit of musk. The hell? Why is he thinking about these vague things? Baekhyun whimpers. God, he is so scared he could piss his pants. But he squinted however, he seriously want to clearly draw the outline of this tall freak. Something rings in Baekhyun’s mind. _Shit, the murderer_.

 

“You could’ve just left but you dare to meddle into my business. You have the worst fortune, little boy.” The murderer said in all seriousness under the black bandana that covers his mouth. Baekhyun frowns at the last words. Little boy? Just because he’s not tall doesn’t mean he is a goddamn boy. That irks him at that state, thanks to the provoking predator. Well, he’s the second prey now and Baekhyun is back to being petrified. But to die without fighting is like he wasn’t given the chance to live.

 

_No, I want to live._

 

Baekhyun struggles, uses his right hand to push the forearm that’s constricting the airway of his breathing, kicks the shin of the murderer while he yanks his left wrist out of the grasp. He merely shove the giant away for him to dash out, unfortunately, all he has done had least percent effect to the latter. Two seconds out from the grip, Baekhyun falls forward, palms and arms hitting the ground first. The predator pulls him back by the legs and Baekhyun screams.

 

“GET OFF OF ME! YOU ARE UNDER ARREST, MURDERER!”

 

“Sweet, I don’t see any badge from you and technically, you could’ve cake your gun out earlier.” Just like he is dragging a kid, the murderer flips Baekhyun—now he’s on his back—so that he could face his prey lucidly. Baekhyun is panting but still, he struggles. He doesn’t want to let the predator know that he’s nothing but an initiate. That would lessen his already crumpled condition. He keeps on kicking even though strong hands held it down. The murderer is pissed, “Fuck! You’re the most persistent prey I’ve ever handled!”

 

Prey. Why does it hurt so much? Is it because it tells Baekhyun that his life is about to end? He thinks he is still young and an initiate. He wants to be an official police officer someday but that someday may never come. He then stops resisting. This could be the end of him. Lying down at the uneven pavement with the murderer hovering over him from above, both wrists pinned down by the hovering figure, Baekhyun wishes to see the full moon at least but doesn’t get the chance too.

 

Because a face appears an inch away from his sweaty face. “Please…don’t hurt me…” a beg came out of his lips. Baekhyun said that with a vacant stare. Clearly noticeable to the predator that Baekhyun’s mind was transferred to retrospection. Baekhyun doesn’t want to cry, he really doesn’t want to show any weakness in front of this man but his emotions betrayed him. Starting with glassy eyes, the teardrops are about to spill.

 

This is where Chanyeol’s senses knocked him down. Staring straight at Baekhyun’s glassy orbs, he can see the loneliness from the past of this boy flashing. Damn, Chanyeol felt like a big idiot. He isn’t a killer. No, because he doesn’t kill anybody just like that. He’d got reasons. But based from his observations minutes ago, this boy has higher connections to the police government. Chanyeol hadn’t planned on getting his ass arrested and spending all his life in prison or much worse, execution.

 

Chanyeol feels something about the aura of the boy that’s seemingly familiar, like they’d shared something in common, “You…you were bullied.” He speaks out. Baekhyun is taken aback by the precision, feeling of being hit by a dart. His concentration focuses on his predator at this instant. He can’t gauge Chanyeol’s reaction but when he tries to overlook the murderer’s eyes…as if their souls were looking directly to each other, Baekhyun shockingly felt comfortable.

 

The tense shoulders turned into relaxation. Chanyeol slowly untangled his right hand from Baehyun’s wrist before dragging the black bandana down to his chin, revealing his whole bare face to Baekhyun. Mesmerized by the lack of intimidating looks for a murder, Baekhyun blinks. Not quite believing the sight of this man. He isn’t qualified for killing at least an insect for that face. Tears forgotten to roll down his cheeks because all Baekhyun could think is how in the universe can a face like that kills?

 

The unspeakable silence grows around the two men on the ground. Neither of them moves. Both are trying to ask why and what and how through the connection of the inner souls. Intentions far away from them, only eyes do the talking. But that didn’t last long, “Why?” Baekhyun asks with a whisper. As if he was afraid someone might hear them, “Why are you killing?”

 

“Spicy musk with a mixture of mint and vanilla.” Chanyeol answers succinctly, admiring Baekhyun’s face mentally. The way Baekhyun’s fringes stick to his forehead while the others fall out, the way his eyebrows meet when he doesn’t comprehend what Chanyeol’s reply is suppose to be the answer to his question, sums it all up…it’s bizarrely a good picture to Chanyeol. He sensed the confusion of the latter.

 

Therefore, Chanyeol leans in. Leans in more, Baekhyun stiffens until Chanyeol reaches his desired purpose; to Baekhyun’s left ear. “Your scent…is strong and nice. But I don’t like the lingering decomposing stinky smell.” Chanyeol smirks when Baekhyun shivers. Now he’s surely intimidating. “Don’t mess with me!” Baekhyun snarls and pushes Chanyeol off of him with all his might. The tall freak rolled out and sat beside the wall. He smiles mockingly to the gasping Baekhyun that sits not so far across from him.

 

“Why? Haven’t experience a man whispered seductively about your scent like that?”

 

“I don’t swing that way.”

 

“Funny, I thought you’re more feminine looking than any other girl walking during the night.”

 

“It has nothing to do with the looks!”

 

“Yeah, right. Remind me about my killings.”

 

Baekhyun shuts his mouth, glares at Chanyeol who is busy rotating his hat without giving him any notice. He thinks that this murderer has multi-personality disorder. A serious level, that is. Because a moment ago, they were strangling each other then at the same time, staring at each other’s silence but heck now, Baekhyun is having some sarcastic conversation with him. What is Baekhyun’s life exactly?

 

“Let’s make a deal, since your all shutup and such. I will let you live ONLY if you refuse to report this pitiable event and NEVER talk about seeing my face to anyone.” Chanyeol said while proceeding to the victim’s body. He brings out a black cloth from his jacket and grabs the wrist of the victim before wiping where Baekhyun’s fingers were pressed previously. Baekhyun just realizes that Chanyeol is actually wearing gloves.

 

“Evidences of you and I that met will be erased. Don’t worry about that. Spill a piece of me, you’re dead.” Chanyeol nonchalantly drops the wrist with no sympathy at all and Baekhyun flinch at the thud. He is still pathetically on the ground, watching Chanyeol’s every move. This isn’t the reality he wanted.

 

“Deal?” Chanyeol is now in front of the high staring Baekhyun. He looks at Chanyeol’s offering hand before to the face.

 

“I want no business with you.” Baekhyun gritted his teeth.

 

“Good, cause I want no business with you either. So you know me not and I know your scent.”

 

“E-excuse me?”

 

“I mean, this night never happened. Treat it like you’ve just dreamt of it and you woke up but didn’t remember anything.”

 

“Never happened?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How am I suppose to do that?! A killer like you wouldn’t understand and I’m suppose to arrest you but it went crazy and this deal is bullshit, you just never knew how mu—”

 

Baekhyun didn’t finish what he is blabbering about. He was drastically pulled from the ground and jostled back against the wall, the back of his head tyrannically slams to it, sheer pain engulfs him whole, strong grip on his arms added fire to his anguish. Writhing in pain, Baekhyun tries to clutch onto Chanyeol’s forearms and pulls him over. He positioned his right leg over the tall man’s calf, tripping the murderer is his goal, only to have the situation in reversal. Chanyeol throws Baekhyun to the opposite wall before forcedly seizing the initiate’s chin.

 

“I’m not a killer!” Chanyeol seethed, the moist air he exhales hit Baekhyun’s face on the process. Both rage discernible in each other’s eyes. “What makes you think killing mercilessly wouldn’t label you as a killer? You psychotic!” Baekhyun didn’t even hold back the way his words fall on high tonicity. Sure thing he is pale as shit but he wouldn’t just cower in fear in front of this misguided person. Again, he was harshly rammed on his shoulder blades. “I. Am. Not. A. Killer.” His predator insists with every push he did to Baekhyun.

 

“Don’t fucking kid with me.” Thrashing violently, Baekhyun breaks free from Chanyeol’s grasp. He successfully felt how his fuming fist gave a hard blow to the murderer’s jaw. Chanyeol stumbles backwards, holding the affected area, eyes wider than before. Accuse of being a killer is what Chanyeol despised the most. He always believes into himself that he isn’t a killer. Just dissecting and leaving the bodies of specific persons, that’s all. He isn’t any other normal serial killers out there. No, he would never see himself like the other guys, comparing himself to them is like putting one white stone into a set of charcoals.

 

Baekhyun sees this as his only chance to escape but then he has dignity. A man wouldn’t be ashamed of his job. Pride rushes in his veins, he swallows the confidence he thought he have. Therefore, he trudges towards the murderer with what he called a speedy act. Several punches, jabs, kicks in whichever part of his predator, soon the man will be unconscious and all he have to do is drag the man out of the hidden alleyway into the main road and call the police.

 

This was all planned out in Baekhyun’s mind but one great punch on his stomach evaporates it like it was never formulated before. He hunched over out of the impact, the murderer’s fist still connected into his gut and the second time where he pukes; forceful expulsion of contents of his stomach and a retching sound along with it. Spluttered stains in Chanyeol’s jacket, his face grimaced at the unexpected vomit. “The hell? Did you just barf on me? Pretty little mouth can’t just talk but can also release a foul thing.” Chanyeol rolled his eyes when Baekhyun coughed, groaned and attempted to get another way of how to connect his fist again to the predator’s face but failed to.

 

Chanyeol listens to Baekhyun’s agony for a while and then grabs a handful of his reddish hair, forcing him to look up. Some liquid still dripping on the initiate’s lips, “Kill…me…for…all…I care. You’re either going with me…or two lives will be at risk.” Despite the evident defeat, Baekhyun still pursue on not giving up no matter what. His ragged breath tells him to reserve his energy but he can’t let himself muted by now. This awes Chanyeol, “I can just let you vomit to death. I don’t know. You tell me.”

 

“That…can’t prevent me…from striving.”

 

Common words but has a strong effect to Chanyeol. The intention is there, he can feel it. Night seems so long yet here he was, crippled with indecision. Eliminating this lad means free from trouble and nuisance. But again, he isn’t a killer. Now that these thoughts are gnawing him inside, he glances down at the stain on the end of Baekhyun’s mouth, letting his free hand lick it off with a subtle touch. Baekhyun blinks, flustered for unknown reason. He shakes his head before gathering himself to push Chanyeol.

 

Unlucky to say, Chanyeol is faster than him on reflex. He jabs the initiate’s gut once again which causes Baekhyun’s eyesight to blur. The antagonizing pain plus the weariness he could feel, Baekhyun couldn’t stand much longer. He refuses to shut his eyes but this time, he can’t seem to fight it off. Collapsing on a murderer’s chest is uncalled for. Hell, Baekhyun wish to die at least on the ground, not on his own puke on the taller man’s chest.

 

Before everything goes pitch black, Baekhyun feels lips attached to the outer layer of his ear and hears, “Accept the deal, you deserve to live. You still have a future and a new goal.” His eyes closed but could hear the heavy breathing of the taller man, the grip on his hair loosened but rather replaced with a caressing one and a perfectly sturdy arm wrapping around his waist to hold him up.

 

 

“New goal, try to catch me.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

卍 卍 卍

“Yeol.”

 

Lay glanced up to Inspector Kim after he heard how the latter uttered the word while jotting it down on his mini notepad. It sounded funny since Kim Jongdae pinched his nose every second, lingering smell evident around them. Lay is squatting and observing the surrounding near the victim’s body that was now covered with white cloth. It’s still dawn on Monday, 5:37 am and they’re in the alleyway that reported some crime scene happened 3 days ago but Lay, being an early riser is never a problem to his part. He simply touches the surface of his chin.

 

“This is spectacular! I never knew the perpetrator is actually giving hints about his name. When and how did you find this, Lay?” Jongdae, having difficulty breathing because of the loathsome smell, decided to start a promising topic. Lay nodded to himself, thinking about something only his mind would allow to understand, stood up. He turns around, walks pass the Inspector, hears footsteps from behind, lifts the crime scene yellow and black tape which has ‘출입금지- Police line –수사중’ on it before frowning when he spotted the brick wall. Nevertheless, he has this character to politely answer a person’s curiosity.

 

“The first three victims of Park Chanyeol displayed odd positions and misleading locations with unnecessary objects. At first, I don’t understand why victim number one has a rectangular box under his foot. It didn’t make sense and his arms where lifted high, stretched. Beside him was a peppero sticks that form odd formation like an incomplete letter ‘H’ along with number 7 beneath it, a little bit far from the victim. It took me approximately 5 seconds to remember where I saw those lines in my life. Actually, there are more ample proofs about their deaths aside from this.”

 

“Those lines, where did you see it?” Jongdae inquired interestingly. He follows Lay’s steps. Lay could only look at him with a blink. Subconsciously, he is tentatively inspecting the brick wall. He can’t see anything strange but his intuition tells him something has definitely taken place on that deceiving wall. Why does it feel so mysterious?

 

“How do you spell Chanyeol’s last name?” Lay answered Jongdae with a question. He turns with a blank expression when the Inspector claps his hands and kept on saying, “AH! NOW I GOT IT! YOU’RE GENIUS!” behind him. He left the wall. It only irritates him not knowing why the wall felt so evil, like sneering at him. He doesn’t know why.

 

“Same goes to the two victims. They spelled ‘Chan’ and the other ‘Yeol’. It sounds absurd, I know, but it was reviewed by the Korean high officials, right? And they agreed on it too.” Lay examines the opposite side of where the scene was while explaining this.

 

“And here am I, thinking you can’t read Hangul.” Jongdae says, sighing and a shake of his head to himself.

 

“Now that this victim displays ‘Yeol’, in these past three days, I guarantee myself he killed two more persons aside from this one right here.”

 

“Shit. You mean…he killed six already?!”

 

“Theoretically, yes.”

 

The Korean Inspector didn’t waste time as he sprinted next to their MPD’s Head Officer, Kim Youngwoon. He reported, from the way how his gestures explain it, and continued spilling the beans of Lay’s intelligence. Lay shifts his attention back to the inviting wall. He slowly leans his back to it then closes his eyes. He felt something, a weird sensation. Once he opened his eyes, right brain splashes him with an answer that required more proofs but are hard to find.

 

“He wasn’t alone. He was confronted by someone.” Lay whispered to himself.

 

On the same night, a knock to Lay’s door echoed. Minutes later, Lay was out of his night shower with bathrobe on, he was greeted by a Kraft brown envelope size 9”x12” long on his doorstep. He cautiously looks from his right to left and saw no one in the hallway of the hotel he was currently staying. Fear of being prank by some inconsiderate immatures, Lay took the envelope inside.

 

He placed it on the table, staring at it like it will move on its own will. Lay continued to dry his hair with a hand size towel. The envelope has no note on both sides. No mention whom to deliver and whom it came from. _That’s interesting_. Who would give him such a formal envelope to begin with? Lay couldn’t hide his curiosity any longer. He snatches the envelope with him and sits on the bed.

 

Cleanly tearing off the lid, Lay expected the unexpected. He doesn’t know if he should acknowledge the sender or he should pay for such help in return. Should he believe this or not? Will this add to some development? Because inside the puzzling brown envelope is a piece of paper.

 

On that piece of paper is a printed face of a man.

 

A face of a man that’s on the alleyway.

 

Exact location of the recent victim.

 

Lay is more curious to the sender than to the actual feature of Park Chanyeol’s image.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geez, this is lame. It came out pretty badly and queue. This is not yet done but I’m too sleepy. Ugh. Psychological at its best. Yeah. So feel free to read voraciously. ChanBaek feels on this chapter, yay success! Lolz.
> 
> And if any of you are wondering what’s the meaning of 출입금지 - Police line – 수사중…
> 
> ‘출입금지’ is Off Limits while ’수사중’ is Investigating/Investigation.
> 
> And the spelling of Park in Hangul is ’박’ so uhm…work ye mind. Kekeke.
> 
> That’s it for now. Ciao!

**Author's Note:**

> ♚ Wow, this is crazy. I should be doing my assignment and not this but anyways...I've already posted this to some fanfic sites and yeah found this one so I'm like why not post it here too? that's for the first chapter. i don't even know if anyone will read it here since i'm all new and stuff.


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